Pan's Nightmare
by SquirrelOfDoom
Summary: Peter Pan's nightmares are destroying the Neverland...and only one girl can save him. Rated T just in case!
1. Nightmare

Dark shadows writhed and twisted around Peter as he cried out in anguish. Why, why did they torture him so? Pan fought desperately, wanting to escape his awful nightmare. Maniacal laughter rang in his ears; a sinister reminder of his fallen iron-clawed adversary as darkness closed around him.

"No!" Peter bellowed, striking out at the rapidly thickening gloom.

As suddenly they had closed, the shadows lifted, revealing a memory he thought he had lost long ago.

He was high in the air over a pirate ship, the setting sun casting magnificent hues of orange, gold and pink over the water. Yet Peter felt oddly tense, as though his body knew what was about to happen, but his brain did not. A blood-curdling cry rose up from the ship, and it was if Peter's brain sped up and slowed down at the same time. Without thinking, he unsheathed his sword from his back and plummeted towards the ship's deck, where his Lost Boys and Hook's pirates fought.

Hook.

That's when Peter froze in midair, spinning about as his blue-gray eyes scanned his surroundings. _Where was he?_

A sudden cry of pain alerted Peter back to the action on the ship, and his heart stopped when he saw whom the cry arose from. He collapsed to the deck, his sword clattering away unnoticed as he cradled Wendy's head. Blood was pouring from a gash in her forehead, and one delicate hand was clasped around her stomach. Her eyes were shut tight, and a soft moan escaped her lips, the rosy color draining from her cheeks.

"Wendy," he sobbed, panicked. "Wendy, please open your eyes. It's me, Peter…"

Wendy's eyelids fluttered weakly, but she forced them open to stare at the boy holding her. Smiling feebly, she attempted to raise her head towards his. When this proved to be too much of an effort, she fell back with a soft cry of pain, clutching her stomach. Peter brought his lips gently to hers, and as he did so, he heard a low chuckle behind him.

"Well, Peter Pan, it seems you _are_ capable of human emotions… has the Wendy girl caused you to feel…dare I say it…_love?_" James Hook sneered, rubbing Wendy's blood off his sword indifferently.

Peter turned his head slowly to face his enemy, tears of anguish mixed with tears of rage streaming down his cheeks. He glared at Hook for only a few seconds, putting every ounce of fury and vengeful wrath in his body into that one glance.

"Sadness, too?" Hook asked pityingly, clicking his tongue in disappointment. "Imagine, boy; had you not met her, you wouldn't have fallen in love with her. You wouldn't be forced to watch her bleed and die."

Peter clutched Wendy closer to his chest, his tears dripping into her hair as he felt the blood from her forehead sticking to his skin. His kissed the top of her head gently, then he stiffened as he felt her hand growing colder with each passing second.

"Wendy!" he cried, tenderly placing her head on the deck as he pressed his lips to her fingers. He felt her pulse weakening, and he cried out in anguish. Already his heart seemed ready to burst from the pain.

_NO! She cannot die! _Peter's brain screamed, his thoughts becoming jumbled as he felt himself growing curiously weak. _Something is wrong, she is not dead!_

He cried out as Wendy's heartbeat finally slowed, then stopped, pain overwhelming him. A red mist filled his eyes as he collapsed on his side, breathing heavily. Shadowy darkness crushed down on him, obliterating every thought as he slipped into the blackness.

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"No! NO! WENDY!"

Peter sat up suddenly from his bed in the underground home, drenched in a cold sweat. A light breeze fanned across his cheek, and he realized that Tinker Bell was fanning him with a large leaf. He fell back upon his fur-covered bed, groaning as he closed his eyes.

"What's happening to me, Tink?" he asked wearily, running his fingers through his blond hair.

The diminutive woman shook her red curls and expressed her sympathy by patting his forehead affectionately. Peter brushed her away absentmindedly as he stared past his room's privacy curtain into the main room of his underground home. All was silent.

But then again, that was to be expected. There had been no new Lost Boys since Wendy had taken them to London with her (though quite a few years had passed), and Peter had become extremely bored. All of the surviving pirates feared him possibly even more than before Hook had perished, so he had no one to practice his sword skills on (and he doubted anyone could match his ability; pirate or not).

Peter sighed and attempted to roll off his bed, but only succeeded in flopping to the floor (and looking like a dork). Picking himself up off the ground, he staggered sleepily towards the tiny fountain where, every night, Wendy had gotten the Lost Boys' pretend medicine. Cupping his hand under the trickling water, he splashed it into his face several times in an effort to wake himself more efficiently.

Pan shook his wet curls like a dog, then pressed the palms of his hands against his closed eyes and breathed deeply. A sudden flash of his nightmare blazed through his mind with images of a glorious sunset and dark blood sticking to his chest as he cradled a dying Wendy in his arms. His eyes shot open, and he reeled back from the fountain, catching a reflection of himself in the ornate, slightly cracked mirror that hung near the entrance to his room.

Moving closer to the mirror, Peter examined his reflection cautiously. He had never bothered to look into the mirror for years; he had only gotten it for Wendy's benefit, but now his reflection fascinated him. He had grown older since Wendy had left; that much was obvious. Muscles rippled down his tanned arms and back, and his leaf-trousers were growing rather short.

_Note to self: Make some new pants,_ Peter thought, leaning closer to examine his lightly freckled face. His stormy blue-gray eyes had remained unchanged throughout the years, and his loosely curled, blond hair was much the same. Sighing once more, Peter made another mental note to ask the Chief about his growth. Chief Redhawk, longtime chief of the Piccaninnys, was as wise as any scholar (though Peter had never met any scholars). Surely he would know.

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Chief Redhawk studied the Pan thoughtfully, stroking his ample chin as he appraised the boy.

"When did this start?" the Chief asked solemnly, as Tiger Lily passed by and grinned at Peter shyly. She had become even more smitten with Peter as the years passed, even though she knew Peter thought of no other girl besides his Wendy. Unfortunately for Peter, Tiger Lily wasn't one to give up.

"After Wendy left with the Lost Boys," Peter replied, carefully avoiding the Piccaninny princess's eyes. This move didn't deter her attention from him at all, and with one swift motion, she slid next to him and gazed up at Peter innocently with liquid-brown eyes like that of a doe. Peter glanced at the Chief, his own blue-gray eyes pleading. Chuckling softly to himself, the wise Chief motioned to his bold daughter.

"Tiger Lily, my precious flower, go out and gather more of those plants we use to dye our animal skins. The squaws have almost finished drying the last few deerskins, and I know you want a new dress for our Autumn Feast," he instructed, waving her towards the forest and winking at Peter, who smiled back gratefully. Tiger Lily left Peter's side reluctantly to obey her father's wishes, giving him one last smile before darting off. The two males watched her leave as Chief Redhawk commented, "I am sorry for your discomfort around my Lily, Peter. She's rather stubborn." He sighed deeply, then glanced at the boy beside him, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly.

"I'm afraid she always wants the things she can't have."

Peter blushed a deep scarlet at the Chief's last comment, coughing feebly to hide his profound embarrassment.

"Ah, well…" Peter paused, unsure of what to say next, his face still burning from the Piccaninny chief's remark.

"Shall we find out what's causing your growth?" the Chief inquired kindly, motioning for Peter to follow him towards his family's personal tepee.

"Yes!" Peter almost shouted, immensely appreciative of Redhawk's skill at changing the subject.

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The temperature inside the Piccaninny dwelling was comfortably cool after the tropical heat, and it helped Peter to relaxed his distressed mind, as well as his body. Reclining on a deep pallet of silky furs piled near the entryway, Peter rested his head against a smaller pile of furs, his eyes gaining a faraway look at he stared at the sides of the tepee.

"Chief Redhawk," he began slowly, reluctant to tell the Chief his theory of what was happening to him, "I think I started growing…because of Wendy's kiss."

He said the last few words very quickly, as though to lessen the ridicule he was sure to receive. But the Chief stayed silent, his weather-worn face thoughtful.

"I believe you're right, Flying Eagle," Redhawk muttered, using Peter's Indian nickname.

Peter's head shot up; this was not what he was expecting.

"I am?" he asked, surprised, his blond head barely avoiding collision with a clay pitcher that hung from the wall. It wasn't often Peter's theories were correct.

"Of course. A kiss is a powerful thing," the Chief said, crossing his legs beneath him comfortably.

"So…what should I do?"

Chief Redhawk contemplated this question for a long moment in complete silence while Peter fidgeted and waited for him to be done thinking.

"Do?" Redhawk asked slowly, as though Peter's question was a particularly difficult one to answer.

"Yes, _do,_" said Peter, who was growing rather impatient with all this thoughtfulness.

Without answering, the Piccaninny chief rose from his sitting position and walked out of the tepee, Peter following so close behind that the two almost smashed into each other.

"I think it would be wise for you to go find your Wendy, Pan," Redhawk answered finally, the corners of his mouth twitching ever so slightly.

Without answering, Peter launched himself into the air. He soared high over the village before suddenly diving back towards the Chief.

"Yes?" Redhawk asked, surprised at the boy's sudden return.

"Go to find Wendy? Are you sure?" Peter asked, his expression nervous.

"Yes, Peter. I'm sure," the Chief confirmed, waving him away. "Go to her."

Without any further delay, Peter took off, soaring high above the clouds and away from his island home.

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**Author's Note: **Arrgh! Peter Pan fan fiction is taking over my sooooul.

Not only do I have this plot in my head, I also have a _third_ idea floating around in the depths of my imagination. But do not fear, fans of my When Peter met Wendy story. I plan to finish that one before even thinking about beginning my third.

Hmmm. So far, both of my PP fics end the same way :)

Don't worry, the plot is insanely different! This is one is sort of a sequel to the live-action movie, with elements from the book and the animated movie (such as Peter's nickname).

Enjoy! And, as always, reviews are immensely appreciated.


	2. Masquerade

Wendy Darling smoothed out the silken folds of her creamy white gown, gazing at her reflection in the full length mirror that hung near her dresser. Dark red curls hung loosely around her bare shoulders as she turned to examine her reflection from the back. Taking a handful of her dark hair, she pinned it up into a loose knot at the back of her head, turning to face the mirror again to study the effect. Just then her mother glided into the room, radiant as ever in a pale blue gown.

"Wendy, dearest, your hair looks much better down," her mother chided affectionately, reaching out one delicate hand to unpin Wendy's loose curls.

Wendy grinned weakly and fiddled with a corner of her gown while her mother presented an ornate mask to her daughter. Wendy's eyes lit up as she took the mask carefully from her mother, trailing one finger across the tiny snow-white feathers that decorated most of the mask.

"Oh, mother, it's _lovely_," she breathed, her gray eyes wandering over the tiny pearls and glass beads that adorned the eye-holes and edges of the mask.

Mary Darling smiled. "Yes, I thought a swan would be a lovely creature to go with your dress--"

"Personally, I think a white mouse would fit you more, Wendy," her brother John interrupted as he sidled into his sister's room, grinning.

Wendy bared her teeth at him in an unladylike snarl while her mother repressed a smile and brushed out Wendy's curls with her fingers.

"Or an albino snake!" little Michael chimed in, running to his mother and clinging to her dress.

John stroked his chin thoughtfully as he appraised his sister, his grin widening. "No, Michael, I think a little white mountain goat would be perfect for our dear Wendy. You know how stubborn she is."

Wendy moved toward them threateningly, but her mother held her back gently, her expression only slightly amused as both boys took off, laughing.

Wendy turned to her mother, her gray eyes full of worry, her pale hands fidgeting with her beaded mask.

"Oh, Mother, what if something awful happens? What if I trip and rip my dress…or there will be some terrible boy that I'll have to dance with… oh, why did my first ball have to be a masquerade?" Wendy cried in agitation as she started to pace in front of the mirror.

Her mother reached out calmly and placed her hands comfortingly on Wendy's shoulders, spinning her around gently so she faced the mirror. She rearranged a few of her daughter's dark red curls so they hung down her shoulders and over her chest, then took the mask and settled it gently over Wendy's eyes and cheeks. Mary Darling smiled at her daughter in the mirror, her hands still resting on her shoulders.

"My dear, I have never seen you look so breathtakingly beautiful as you do tonight. You have grown into a lovely young lady; your father and I couldn't be more proud. You will do fine. Enjoy yourself, for no other ball will be like your first." Her mother paused and stood back from Wendy, her eyes distant. "It will be a night to remember."

Wendy sighed, stroking the beak of her swan mask with one finger as she stared at her reflection emptily, her mind elsewhere. Her mother glided out the door silently, pausing only to poke her head back into Wendy's room.

"Remember, dear, it's at five o' clock. You've got about twenty minutes." With that last comment, Wendy's mother disappeared from view.

Wendy, after fluffing her curls briefly and taking one last glance in the mirror, decided she was finished with preparing, and slumped in her rocking chair near the window. Her mind wandered aimlessly, her face turning to the cloudless night sky outside her window, when a sudden memory jolted her body and caused adrenaline to rush through her veins as her heart pounded ferociously against her ribcage.

_Where did that come from? _Wendy wondered, her memory electrified at the sudden flash of a pair of beautiful blue-gray eyes that glittered with laughter. But secretly Wendy knew exactly what had caused the sudden bolt of memories. Her mind had wandered (as it always did) to the Neverland. How she missed its sandy beaches and lush, vibrant jungles. How she wished she could visit the underground home of the former Lost Boys and their illustrious captain. Wendy couldn't kid herself; she knew it was only the Lost Boys' captain who drew her mind to his island domain every waking moment, the boy who tempted her so irresistibly with his stunning eyes and impish grin. Wendy had had her fair share of crushes growing up; but no mortal boy could ever compare to _him_.

Peter Pan.

Ever since her return to London with her brothers and the former Lost Boys, Wendy had forbidden herself from saying, or even _thinking, _his name. But now she couldn't avoid it; his very _memory_ was making her dizzy.

The Lost Boys had begged with Wendy for her to forget him (as he would undoubtedly forget her), and she had assured them that she would, but Wendy kept the memory of her Pan locked away deep in her heart; she wouldn't…no, _couldn't_…forget him.

Wendy's heart throbbed painfully as the memory of his eyes flickered, then faded, returning to that secret place in her heart. She wondered vaguely what he was doing. It comforted her to think that no matter what pain he caused her with his memory, he would be free and untroubled by such adult worries.

-----------------------

Wendy fingered the hem of her dress, shifting her mask slightly to see better. The ballroom was stuffed with young men all wearing dark-colored suits with silky neckties, and thousands of young ladies in gorgeous dresses of various colors. All wore elaborate animal-like masks. Wendy passed a peacock, a lamb, and a wolf as she made her way towards an empty seat at one of the tiny, round tables that dotted the edges of the room.

A gloriously bright chandelier hung from the painted ceiling by way of a long brass chain, its thousands of crystals glittering. A small orchestra stood on a stage on the opposite side of the massive room, playing a lively piece of music. Wendy looked around curiously; no one seemed to be dancing. Everyone was either milling about looking for someone to talk to, actually _talking _to someone, or loading up on the free food.

Wendy stood on her toes (not an easy thing to do, considering she was already wearing high heels) and searched for a familiar face (though this was also rather difficult, as everyone had their faces hidden).

A slim, graceful figure danced over to where Wendy stood, a periwinkle blue dress swishing around her ankles, blond hair piled high on the top of her head in elaborate curls. Wendy smiled.

"Hello, Alice."

The dainty creature beamed at Wendy behind her blue jay mask, hugging her briefly and waving a delicate hand airily to indicate the ballroom.

"Hello, Wendy dearest. Isn't the party lovely? I think Father went a bit overboard on the orchestra…" Alice's features darkened slightly, but then lit up again just as quickly as she smiled once more and gave a little twirl. "But the rest is fantastic, don't you think?" Alice gushed, her wide blue eyes sparkling.

"Yes, it's wonderful. My compliments to you, Alice, for planning such a grand event," Wendy commented, inclining her head slightly to the petite blond. "You've got quite a pretty costume too; it matches your personality well," Wendy added, nodding her head in approval while her eyes examined the dress.

Alice gave another twirl for Wendy's benefit, a sly grin spreading across her face when she stopped.

"So…any particular gentleman catch your eye yet?" the diminutive blonde giggled, watching intently for Wendy's reaction.

The Darling girl kept her face carefully blank and dismissive, waving one hand airily about the room, though the corners of her mouth twitched slightly.

"Alice, dear, I'm afraid boys don't interest me much these days," Wendy commented, letting her eyes roam over the various men in the room. One tall gentleman seemed to be watching her as well, and she flashed him a brief smile before turning back to her friend.

Alice sighed, rolling her eyes in exasperation. "Ah yes, I forgot. You're still pining over that mystery boy I heard you talking about in your sleep."

Wendy whirled about, her face blushing a deep scarlet beneath her mask as she fluttered her hands distractedly to silence her friend.

"Wh-what are you talking about?" Wendy gasped as she grabbed Alice by the elbow and dragged her to a more secluded corner of the ballroom.

Alice grinned and pushed her mask back up onto her forehead, leaning against the nearest wall and examining her fingernails airily.

"Wendy, dearest, don't act so naïve. It doesn't suit you. You know perfectly well what I'm talking about. Don't you remember that night that I stayed over, and you fell asleep earlier than I did? Well, I heard you mumbling about someone while you slept," Alice commented serenely, tucking a stray curl behind one ear.

Wendy's mouth had gone dry and her eyes were wide, but she couldn't deny it. Of course she couldn't. She knew it was true. Wendy dreamed about…_him_…almost every night. Beautiful visions of lush forests and sparkling waterfalls tumbled through her memory, and she became so engrossed in her past dreams that Wendy didn't hear Alice's next comment…

"- and I never thought you'd be the kind of girl to meet a boy _secretly_, without even bothering to tell _me_," Alice exclaimed huffily, hands on her hips.

This confused Wendy immensely, as she had momentarily forgotten Alice knew nothing of the Neverland.

"Secretly? Oh no, Alice, Michael and John knew him too," Wendy muttered, attempting to organize her thoughts. This comment, however, only managed to spark Alice's indignation further.

"Oh, so your _brothers_ knew about him, and I _didn't_? Wendy Darling, you better tell me all about this boy--"

"Um, pardon me, am I interrupting something?" a new, male voice inquired politely.

Both girls whirled around to face the intruder; Wendy still slightly muddled; Alice ready to hit somebody. Both froze as they laid eyes on the owner of the melodic voice.

The speaker was the tall gentleman whom Wendy had smiled at, his head cocked to the side slightly as he stared at Wendy, the corners of his mouth twitching in repressed laughter.

Alice immediately noticed the direction of the young man's gaze, and her quick temper cooled almost straight away. She flashed a brief, polite smile in the man's direction and pulled her friend close to whisper in her ear.

"Try to enjoy yourself, Wendy. Dance at least once, please? For me?" Alice pleaded in Wendy's ear. She backed away from the two, her smile now fixed and her eyes commanding Wendy to obey her instructions.

Wendy sighed under her breath and turned to the gentleman, her eyes taking in his appearance as he did the same to her.

His costume was decidedly casual, with his tousled blonde curls and the sleeves of his white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows. He wore black pinstriped slacks and a vest to match, with his necktie the color of evergreen trees. His mask was that of a fox, looking more animal-like than any of the others Wendy had seen, complete with pointed ears as well as whiskers, and decorated only with tiny, russet-colored feathers. He bowed to Wendy formally, but when he straightened there was a playful smile on his lips. Wendy couldn't help but like him immediately, and she curtsied quickly and tucked her hand into his elbow as he led her out onto the dance floor.

A slow waltz was being played by the orchestra now, and there were many more dancers than before. Wendy's partner turned so he faced her and placed one hand carefully on her waist, while he offered the other to Wendy. Smiling shyly, she laid her hand in his, and the dance began.

Wendy was surprised at how smoothly the young gentleman danced; she had been expecting him to have to focus on his feet to make sure he didn't trod on Wendy's, like John had to do when Wendy practiced waltzing with him. No, the boy danced beautifully, his eyes gazing into hers the entire time. A strange sense of warm familiarity washed through her body, and she relaxed completely, letting the young man guide her wherever he wished.

"So, what is your name?" he asked as they spun slowly, elegantly, around the room.

"Wendy Darling," she replied, omitting her middle names. "What's yours?"

"That's a lovely dress you're wearing," the young man commented quickly, avoiding her question entirely and hoping to distract her with flattery.

Wendy wasn't fooled for an instant, but she masked her true feelings beneath an expression of vain delight.

"Oh, thank you! Isn't it just? I thought at first I might be too pale to wear it, but after I tried it on, I just _had_ to buy it. And it does match this swan mask rather well, don't you think?" she simpered, her gray eyes crafty as she watched the boy's eyes begin to glaze over at this uninteresting talk. Her eyes brightened with a sudden thought, and she made her voice and facial expressions carefully nonchalant.

"Of course, dear Tootles said I looked like an angel in it…he is such a sweet boy, more so than any of the others--"

Wendy's words were interrupted by a sudden snort of contempt from the young man.

"Figures. Tootles _would_ say that silly stuff; he was always complimenting you in Neverland…"

The young man's look of disgust faltered as he realized what had happened, and he quickly shut his mouth, his eyes wide.

Wendy growled, gripping his hand so hard that the young man actually winced.

"Peter Pan, what are you _doing _here?" she hissed, trying to pull free from his hand around her waist.

But Peter only grinned and pulled her closer, his warm breath fanning out against her cheek.

"I did say I would come back, didn't I?" he asked, his blue-gray eyes adorably mischievous as her struggles became less and less forceful.

"Well, yes, but it's been _years_, Peter," Wendy gasped, his intoxicating, earthy scent making her a little woozy. She pushed back so his smell wasn't so strong and took in deep breaths as his face grew thoughtful.

"Years?" he mused, unaware of Wendy's forceful shoves against his chest. "That's odd."

He changed the subject swiftly, deciding it would be best to convince Wendy to like him again, instead of resent him.

"How are the Lost Boys?"

"They're doing well. Mother and Father treat them as their own, and they've adapted nicely to school," said Wendy, putting a little emphasis on the word _school._

Peter cocked an eyebrow at her decidedly cool nature, though this was hidden by his fox mask. He was about to comment on her last statement when he felt someone tap his shoulder.

"Excuse me, may I cut in?" another young gentleman inquired, his lizard mask bobbing slightly so its wearer could see better.

Peter drew his lips back over his teeth in a ominous grin, and a distinctly wolf-like growl emitted from his throat.

"No."

Peter whirled away with Wendy, leaving the crestfallen man in the dust, dumbstruck.

"Peter!" Wendy cried reproachfully, swatting his arm lightly. "That was impolite. Proper English gentlemen do not behave like that!"

"Then I'd say it's a good thing I'm not a proper English gentleman, wouldn't you? Besides, you wouldn't want to dance with him. You and I both know you want to stay right where you are. With me."

Wendy pursed her lips, her expression annoyed, though secretly she agreed wholeheartedly. The time had come for a change of subject.

"That's an interesting choice of mask, Peter. It suits you," she remarked, tugging lightly at one of the whiskers.

"Because I'm so foxy?"

Wendy struggled to remain composed and failed horribly. She exploded with laughter, her face alight with mirth as she clutched at Peter for support. People were beginning to stare, but Wendy couldn't stop, causing Peter to laugh along with her. Finally, her giggles subsided until she was left with only hiccups and Peter's wide grin. Smoothing a curl back from her forehead, Peter chuckled quietly.

"I missed hearing you laugh," he said somberly, squeezing her hand gently.

Wendy stared into his eyes and hiccupped, her expression one of incredulity.

"Really? Then why didn't you come back sooner?" Wendy breathed, her eyes almost pleading.

"I have a bad memory. You know that. It didn't help that time passed differently in Neverland," he whispered, holding her closer to his chest.

The pair grew quiet; they continued to dance without even thinking about it.

Wendy broke the silence with a question that had been bothering her since she realized who he was.

"You've grown taller…I thought that couldn't happen," Wendy said softly, tilting her head back to stare into Peter's eyes.

Unexpectedly, Peter blushed, lowering his eyes to stare at the floor.

"I…well, I think…your kiss made me grow," he said in a rush, his words tumbling over each other and becoming jumbled as he spoke them.

Wendy cocked her head at him curiously.

"Sorry, didn't catch that… what did you say?"

The eternally youthful boy took a deep breath and raised his eyes until they met Wendy's.

"I think I grew because of your kiss," he repeated, more calm than before, though his blush deepened.

Wendy felt her face grow warm. Freeing her hand from Peter's, she fanned herself with it desperately. Peter led her quickly to one of the small tables near the wall and she slumped other the table, all ladylike dignity gone. Peter sat in a chair opposite her and leaned back, then pushed his mask onto his forehead and crossed his arms over his chest.

Inexplicably, Wendy started to giggle again, her shoulders shaking as she hunched over the table.. Peter stared at her in fascination; girls certainly had strange mood swings.

Leaning back in her own chair, Wendy giggled and sneaked a look at Peter, then burst into helpless laughter. A couple nearby started to edge away and Peter shook Wendy's shoulder, slightly concerned for the girl's sanity.

"Wendy?" Peter asked tentatively, his stormy eyes filled with worry. "Are you alright?"

Wendy sighed contentedly, brushing away his fingers.

"Mother was right. I will not forget this night easily," Wendy muttered thoughtfully, glancing at Peter, the corners of her mouth twitching. Now that he had removed his mask, Peter was even more inhumanly stunning.

"I'm glad you had your mask on for most of the time, otherwise you might not have had a chance to talk to me. Girls would have been swooning at your feet left and right," Wendy remarked dryly, crossing her arms like he did.

Peter cocked his head, his eyes inquisitive, his expression adorably bemused.

"What do you mean?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"I mean that all the young ladies here would just love to dance with you. Look, see those two over there, by the orchestra? They're probably trying to think of the best way to get your attention so you'll ask them to dance. They're also probably hoping I'll bore you," Wendy said coolly, eyeing the girls with distaste.

"But…I'm with you. Can't they see that?" asked Peter, turning around in his seat to stare at the two in fascination.

The girls, upon seeing Peter's face unmasked, immediately began to giggle and whisper. Both smiled coyly at Peter, and one wiggled her fingers in a cutesy little wave.

Wendy snorted. "Yes, but that doesn't mean anything to them. They're going to try and make you forget about me entirely. Ridiculous," she muttered. "Though I'm sure you could scare them off by growling at them a bit."

Peter laughed unexpectedly, turning back to face Wendy.

"That's a stupid plan," he remarked lightly, pushing his mask down over his face again. "They could never make me forget you."

Wendy felt her face growing warm again, and she ducked below the table to rearrange the folds of her dress around her ankles better and to hide her face. When she resurfaced, Wendy saw that both girls had sauntered over to their table and were attempting to start a conversation with Peter. Both had their backs to Wendy, but she could edge past them just enough to see Peter's face.

"Hello," the girls chimed together, as though rehearsed. Unfortunately, Peter decided to smile politely at them, sending them into fits of giggles. A minute or so passed while the girls giggled and Wendy mimed gagging behind their backs until the laughter subsided, and one of the girls summoned up enough courage to speak to Peter again.

"We were just wondering if you would like to join us for a walk in the garden," the first girl recited, again sounding like an actor on the stage performing his lines. Both girls seemed to hold their breath, though Wendy could tell they didn't expect a negative answer.

But a negative answer was what they got.

"No, thank you. I am enjoying some conversation with this ravishing lady right here," Peter said, imitating their rehearsed tones and indicating to me.

The girls turned to face Wendy reluctantly, and the Darling child grinned widely, wiggling her fingers in a copy of the second girl's wave. Utterly rejected, the girls flounced off sulkily, noses in the air.

Wendy smiled to herself and leaned back, her eyes wandering over the various dancing couples. Peter leaned forward over the table and took Wendy's fair hand in his own, all traces of humor gone from his eyes.

"Wendy, I have to tell you why I really came. I did want to see you, but I have a much more dire reason for coming here."

Wendy tore her eyes away from the dancers to look at Peter's solemn face. Concern flooded through her, and she took his hand in both of hers.

"Peter…what's happened?"

He breathed deeply, unwilling to ruin the perfect life she had been enjoying without him bringing trouble.

"Wendy, something is destroying the Neverland."

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**Author's Note:** Arrgh, I apologize for the _immensely, ridiculously_ _long_ wait. I'll try not to leave it in the dust for so long….but I did put together a nice long chapter for you.

For those of you who guessed Peter would turn out to be the tall gentleman…yay for you! I tried not to make it too obvious…

Peter **is** foxy, yes he is. Don't deny it! When I was first writing this chapter, I had a hard time trying to decide what animal Peter's mask would be. I had the final three; a lion, a wolf, or a fox.

And then that line popped into my head.

Foxy here means hot, as opposed to what the thesaurus says. Although Peter is also sly, cunning, crafty, tricky, etc.


End file.
